The Dancers
by Meandor711
Summary: A warm shower is the last resort of washing off the past. Entering as a tainted man only to exit as something else, something new, and most importantly something clean. Steve didn't feel this catharsis, the dancers ruined his cleansing. AU.


The Dancers

Steve shuffled into his small apartment clutching his phone in his right hand. The damn thing hadn't turned on for three hours and he was pissed that the battery couldn't last all night. He threw the phone on the bed and slumped onto the floor feeling the cold surfaces. Heaven could be found in the strangest places. After much struggle, he was able to connect the phone to the charger and checked his messages. His face finally felt less tense as he checked his social media, mind finally distracted.

His first week at UNI had ultimately dawned and the faculty had organized various get-togethers for the whole week. These assemblies were in three words absinth, spirits, and beers. The two first dominating Steve's experiences the past week. Being a lightweight, he tried to stay clear from drinking, but today he had drunk for two Steve's instead of one, there was a cruise and he had to calm his nerves somehow. The cruise itself was fun, so fun he had decided to pour a beer all over his t-shirt to everyone's surprise and some peoples delight. After that, they had gone to another preparty, meaning more Jack Daniels, finally, the crew ended out in town. Steve had just come home at 2 am. Early for him, but today was an exception. A hammer rampaged his head as he vaguely remembered the bottle of vodka he had consumed at the first preparty, the beers on the party boat, the Jack Daniels at the other preparty, and shots he had been offered and shots he had offered in the clubs.

The group chat was rabble with various people asking where the others were, where they were going or planned to go. Video messages of "crazy" people shooting rounds after rounds after round. No one had noticed him leave, except Claire. Being one of the people in charge of his group she was obliged to ask if he was okay, where he was and had even called him twice. She worked hard for that title. If he had known maybe, he wouldn't have become what he is now. Slowly typing back to them as the letters on his screen danced back and forth. He told them he was home and going to shower, the only response he got was not to drown.

Drowning in the shower was the last thing Steve wanted to do tonight. He had to talk to his father, ask him for advice. Guidance in the days to come. The man who had raised him to be the man he had become. Children usually imitate traits of their parents, did that mean his father could be blamed for what he did tonight? The deeds he had committed? No, he concluded, I fucked up. His father could only be a guiding beacon in the horizon, but now he had wandered so far away from its light he didn't know if he would find the path again.

Undressing and cursing at himself, he couldn't stop thinking about what happened tonight nor could his member. His mind wandered so quickly that he didn't notice the lights flashing through the window as busses and cars drove past. The events that had transpired made his guts twist roughly, like a branch slowly being twisted until it snaps. There were many things a man shouldn't do, his father had told him, things that take away your manhood no matter how big the muscles, penis, or brain was. This was something that no man should do in his life had his father said. The young man had now disobeyed his father. Disappointed him. Soon to be disowned by him.

The man shuffled towards his bathroom, opened the lid and emptied his stomach. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he felt the bittersweet taste of his insides enter his mouth before exiting rapidly. It tasted grimier than usual, burning his mouth and decaying his teeth. Belching four more times, he finally opened his eyes and looked at the contents within the toilet, eyes blurred by alcohol and tears. Inside the bowl was a black and oozing liquid conjuring the same sounds he just had. His heart razed, he panicked. The mass started to bubble and cackling giggles filled the air between the four walls.

For each bubble that popped, a small dancer came out. Small silhouettes, miniature people which only had two purposes, dancing and seducing. They multiplied quickly, from one to five, to eighteen. Steve couldn't look away as they all strutted in front of him, shaking their small breasts towards him, giggling, licking their lips. Grinding together in an enthralling dance Steve couldn't take his eyes off. He was the moth, tempted by the bright light tempting him from a short distance. And tempted he was, more tempted than he had been in years.

They looked just like her. All of them looked just like her. The reason he had lost his manhood, his sense of pride. He had abused his position in society. Abused those less fortunate. Becoming someone lesser than what he already was. Or had she used him? Had she tempted him like the snake in the garden? But he still bit the apple on his own. Feeling his shoulders turning heavy, he couldn't look away. Something within him tingled as he looked at them, shoulders slowly pressed towards the ground as blood streamed from one head to the other.

His father had often talked of sin. Nevertheless, one question his father could never answer is what makes a man a sinner? What is within man that makes man sin? Is sin the apple that shouldn't be eaten but too tempting to resist? Does it bring wisdom? For if so then Steve should be wise, but he didn't feel wise. Even if the apple is sin why make it resisting? Why make it so alluring? Are men doomed to sin? What makes a sinner? Even his father didn't know, but he knew what sin was. But how can one know sin without being a sinner? Had his father only rambled truthiness?

Steve didn't know what makes a sinner. He only knew the feeling of being one.

The young man was unable to flush the toilet, he just fell on his back. He panted, the stench of his breath was so thick it could choke the largest of elephant as it reeked of vodka, shots, and beers. It made him sick. Just as sick as he had felt when he went into the strip club after leaving the group. He was originally going home but as he stumbled down the road, he bumped into two men at his age both well-built and well off. They were nice fellows and ushered him with them to one of the few strip clubs in the city. Steve didn't even try to resist. The week had been long and most of those around him were only friendly out of custom and norms, not because they wanted to. These men looked into his eyes, read him for who he was, at least that's how it felt. He felt like the book that they enjoyed with a good glass of scotch. He felt like something luxurious, something pure. Something inside him screamed, ordering him to leave and never return. The screams were blurred, the spirits made sure of that.

Staggering up the man walked into the shower and felt the bathroom floor getting wetter as he turned on the water. The ooze was still living in the toilet bowl and giggles never ceased. Letting the water kiss his body, just like she had, feeling the water slide down his member, just like she had he felt something pulling at his cheeks. The small delicate touches from the water streaming down his body slowly made him smile. The familiarity was striking and hormone inducing.

His breath formed an aura around him making him feel more and more sickly. Just before he fell over, the young man decided to sit down. Feeling the water kiss him again and again. He couldn't help it, this felt comforting. It was just like when he had fallen from his bike and his father had kissed the bruises away. The warm feeling was just like how he felt when his father patted his head in pride as a child. It felt just like her kissing him.

As he lay on the bathroom floor, he noticed how warm it was compared to the water hitting him from above, a light summer drizzle hitting him as he was enjoying the sun on his back. It felt like the sofa in the strip club that made him melt into the seat. The two guys he had joined bought three bottles of champagne and before Steve knew a woman had sat down next to each of them. The other men were quickly in conversation with the girls, but Steve felt a glimmer of doubt inside him. Why was he here? This wasn't like him, even when drunk. He was usually less interested in girls as he drank, so why did he go to this strip club? Isn't this what makes a sinner?

The woman next to him was dashing, there was no way around it. Short long brown hair and a tight black dress that showed everything except the parts which were paid per view. Her body wasn't slim, but not far off. However, what struck Steve the most was her eyes. A hassle nutty brown quality and shiny as round rocks tempered by streams for thousands of years. They gave her face a cat-like quality. Steve tried to talk but could only stutter. She looked him right in the eyes and smiled. Steve melted from both sides.

Chatting, or in Steve's case stuttering, for a while and drinking some of the champagne, it didn't take long before the other guys ordered VIP rooms. They gave him winks as they left. Paralyzed, Steve didn't know what to do. The woman gave him a foxy grin and took his hand leading him into one of the VIP rooms. He quickly brought the bottle with him and her smile grew wider. She pushed him into the sofa and whispered, almost panted, into his ear that she would give the first one for free. His heart skipped too many beats, skipped into a different song entirely.

Adjusting the showerhead so it was closer to him, pushed the shower curtains to the side he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. As the memories went back to him, he felt his insides twist once more. And the stick broke once more. He tried to sit up but didn't manage to get up and young sinner puked all over his lower body. The black ooze had returned. Silhouettes were similar to the once in the bowl. The only difference this time was the shiny eyes had returned. They felt deeper than what he remembered. The orbs twinkled, speaking to him. Inviting him to join them in the dance.

They crawled all over him like spiders touching him and feeling him all over. From between his toes and up to his thighs but his resolve was stronger this time. Sitting up, he grasped the showerhead and quickly flushed them down the drain, before pushing the showerhead on the top of the toilet bowl, quickly flushing the last of the dancers down into the depths. He managed to clean them off before he became entranced again and for the first time tonight, his will had finally triumphed.

When they got in the VIP room, she put a timer on for half an hour and danced for him. Slowly undressing and teasing him. He tried to touch, but she slapped him, giggled and continued to dance. Giving some lap dances in between general dancing. She was no professional, even Steve saw that, but in his state, he felt like a king. This beautiful woman was dancing for him, him alone, showing everything. The thong on his head was his crown.

"If you pay for another thirty minutes, I will make it up for you" She purred in his ear, making each hair standout sending pleasure down his spine. It didn't take long before he had paid for another hour at the counter, with another bottle of champagne. She seemed overly delighted and his heart melted this time. That smile was stronger than his morals.

There were no explosions as he finished. No fireworks, no sweet song playing during the climax nor any cuddling afterward. Steve noticed none of the usual feelings he usually did. Black balloons pooped and he sobered up. Her giggles, moans, and panting roughly carved their place inside his memory. It hurt. Was this an act of passion or was it just lust? His stomach started to slowly twist inside him, like a branch. He felt more like an animal than a man.

The last thing he remembered was her panting on the sofa as he threw dollar bills at her. The sound was lighter than earlier, less vicious and more frequent. Had she enjoyed their time? The bills slowly soaked the sperm from her belly, he could only stare at the patterns developing. One of them stuck out to him, a goat with horns. He slowly realized what he had done, his belly twisted itself further, close to snapping. She looked at him with hungry eyes, the cougar had found her goat. He was no king, he was the pretender and she was the puppeteer. Had he really abused her? Had he used his position to his advantage? Financially he was secure, this visit hardly scratched his account and she must have seen it. Right? Was he in the wrong or did her temptations just become too much for him to handle? Was he really a sinner? More animal than man?

The young man shuffled out of the shower, cleaned himself off, dried off and curled in bed, bringing his knees towards his chest. He tried to ignore his erect penis, tried to hurt it enough with his tights so it would stop looking so prideful, so hopeful. He hadn't felt this dirty before. He couldn't tell his father what he had done. There was no way he could. There will be no solace in this, I made a grave mistake, he muttered to himself. His groin disagreed.

Tragically, He knew he'd go back for more. He had lost sight of the beacon. He had bit the apple. His manhood had withered and remaining was the essence of man, a sin.

The dancers had successfully seduced him.


End file.
